


Come Willowing Across The Sand

by thisenglishsoul1999



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisenglishsoul1999/pseuds/thisenglishsoul1999
Summary: Set in Saint Tropez in 1970. The narrator is part of the film crew. What will happen when David invites her to the beach one afternoon? (No, you'll never guess.)
Relationships: David Gilmour/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

Not even our rather enthusiastic film crew was passionate enough to insist on lugging tons of equipment around when temperatures in Saint Tropez seemed determined to surpass the 40 degrees mark. Or maybe they simply knew that if they were foolish enough to insist, Pink Floyd would give them the collective judgemental stare and proceed to not turn up; either way we all got an afternoon off.

“An afternoon off!” proclaimed Roger. Most of us were lounging around in the entrance hall of the hotel being happily unproductive. They did have really nice sofas there. “My, what shall we be doing with all this unexpected free time?”

“Well, I’m going to the beach.“ David announced. General nods of approval.

“Oh, cool! Can I come along?” Nick piped up.

“Um, no.”  
Roger grinned, fanning himself with a magazine, while Nick looked slightly perplexed. Rick opened one eye and smiled his quiet smile. David gestured apologizingly. “I’m sorry, it’s only that I was going to spend an afternoon by myself for a change, sorry, but of course we’re still great friends, Nick.” 

General laughter. The drummer looked appeased and leaned over to snatch the magazine from Roger. “HEY!” 

I bent my head even lower over my little notebook, biting the end of my pencil. Everybody was making plans. Someone was grumbling about the quality of the coffee. Someone else asked Roger why on earth he was wearing a black shirt in this heat, if he was maybe crazy or just being dumb, and was told to sod off. 

A warm breeze ruffled the pages of my book and I put it away, more forcefully than I’d intended to, got up and walked out on the front porch. The air smelled of salt, fish, petrol and Mediterranean flowers. A seagull’s cry over the swishing sounds of the ventilator.

I was sure nobody had heard my sigh, but then a large, strong hand came to rest softly on my shoulder. I turned my head to the side. Long-fingered, the fingertips calloused. “What’s the matter, David?” I asked, smiling because he somehow had a shyness about him that made him look a few years younger.

He smiled back. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Don’t know actually, but, uh, what you said, going to the beach sounded like a really good idea, I mean, now that we’re so close and I haven’t –“

David squeezed my shoulder lightly and I shut up. “Would you like to join me, then?”

The pencil in my hand nearly cracked as I clamped my fingers around it. “But… but you said…”

“Would you?”

“Fuck… yes. Yes, absolutely! Do you want to go swimming?”

He patted the pocket of his faded jeans. “I’ve got my swimming trunks, just in case, yes.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll… just let me go and fetch my bikini, okay?”

He flashed me a smile. “I’ll be waiting in the car.” I nodded with a grin that hurt my cheeks and hurried back inside, brushing past his right arm, oblivious of the others watching me with obvious amusement as I ran to the door and upstairs to find my bikini, a towel and some self-confidence.


	2. Chapter 2

David pulled a guitar case from the backseat and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Do you take a guitar with you everywhere you go?” I enquired. 

“Why, yes, indeed” he said in a fake posh voice, scowling at me and doing The Thing with his mouth. I giggled like a school girl and he grinned. 

We set off through the long whispering grass, downhill to the beach. David was squinting in the sunlight and muttered something about sunglasses he’d left in his hotel room, but he looked relaxed and quite happy nevertheless. I was twirling strands of my hair around my fingers, jumped down a small hill, bouncing exuberantly, and when I turned around, I saw him smiling at me.

“Let’s sit down here” I suggested, and David just put his guitar case down carefully without further comment and bent over to take his shoes off before he sat down in the sand. I spread out my towel before I followed him. “Your jeans are going to get all sandy.”

“So is your towel”, he pointed out in his pleasant tone of voice. “Yeah, fine” I said. “Gosh, I love the sea.”

“It is very beautiful” he said, shielding his eyes from the sunlight with his hand and looking at the endless blue receding towards a distant horizon. I peered at his bare feet instead, noticing the veins under the tanned skin and tracing them down to his long toes with my eyes. The hems of his jeans were already covered in sand. He was wearing a blue shirt that seemed two sizes too small for his muscular frame, which was a very good thing as far as I was concerned.

He noticed my leering at his feet, wriggled his toes and dug them into the soft sand. I chuckled and took my sandals off as well to do the same.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, you can” David said, leaning back and supporting his weight on his elbows. He looked at me expectantly.

“Actually, it’s more of an assumption about you, so you can either confirm it or tell me I still don’t know you at all.”

He did that thing when he wouldn’t say anything, but simply look at you in a way that invited you to tell him everything. I had not yet figured out how to deal with the guy, but I decided to assume away for now. “If we were to play the desert island game and you could only take, say, three luxury items. You’d bring a guitar, wouldn’t you?”

David chuckled. “Well, I guess I would!”

“Ha, so I’m right!” I clapped my hands together, too excited to sit still.

“You can’t really classify a guitar as a luxury item, though. That’s where we disagree!”

“What?”

He smiled broadly, very broadly. “It’s an essential. Life is not possible without a guitar.”

I remained silent for a moment. Then I said, “You’d take three guitars.”

“Hmmmm, two guitars and a record player.”

I laughed, looking down and scooping up a handful of sand. “Are you going to play something on the one you brought along to this desert island?”

“Very possibly, but would you like to go for a swim first?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Yeah, sure, just…” I let the sand run through my fingers and looked around. “Where could I go to get changed?” 

David scanned the beach. He shrugged. “It’s looking a bit desolate where changing rooms are concerned, isn’t it? I promise I’m not going to look.”

My cheeks were on fire. “Turn around and don’t you dare take a peek.”

“I promise I won’t” he said and turned around. I slipped into my bikini, glancing over my shoulder numerous times, not really sure what I was hoping to see. David had turned his back on me and the first time I checked, he was just pushing his long hair behind his ear because the wind was blowing it into his face. The second time, he was just sitting there calmly. The third time I threw a glance at him over my shoulder though, when I was nearly done changing, he had lowered his head and I thought I caught him stealing a furtive glimpse at me. I cleared my throat. “Right… ready.”

“Great, just a moment.” He got to his feet and pulled his shirt over his head, shaking back his hair. He gave me a look. “What, are you not going to turn around when I’m stripping?” he joked. 

I stuck out my tongue and turned my back on him, crossing my arms over my chest. I could hear him undoing his belt and the scraping of denim on skin as he pushed his jeans down his legs and kicked them off. A moment later, I could hear the sound of his bare feet in the sand, but I still jumped when two strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind. 

“Ready?” he breathed into my ear, his hair tickling my shoulder and his warm breath on my skin giving me goosebumps. I looked down and put my own hands on his larger, male ones, clasped on my belly. “Am I allowed to look at you now?” I asked, turning my head and taking in the sight. 

“Feel free to do so.” He was wearing the short black trunks he’d shown me earlier, when I’d asked if he wanted to go swimming. They were… the word “small” seemed like an apt choice. I tore my eyes away from his crotch when I realized I was staring blatantly, only to stare blatantly at the rest of his body. The Cambridge girls who’d nicknamed him “the Adonis” had been so right. 

“I like your attire” he said and I snapped back into reality, finding him smiling his devastating smile at me again. It took me a moment to notice HIS eyes – “Hey, what are you peeking at now?” 

I pretended to wriggle away indignantly and he let go of me with a slightly sheepish look on his face and jerked his head towards the rolling waves. “Shall we go?”

Instead of an answer, I started running.


	4. Chapter 4

We raced each other to the water. The first waves crashed against my legs - I screamed, because my skin was hot from the sun and the ocean felt like ice, but it was blissfully cool, and I saw David walk into the sea with all his male grace and dive headfirst into it as soon as it got deep enough, so I followed suit, and the sea enveloped my body and then I saw David come up for air, wet strands of his long hair sticking to his forehead and neck, and he wasn’t Adonis anymore but a god of the ocean, shaking his head and smiling at me, and when he set off away from the beach with strong swimming strokes, I went after him, shouting “This is so good!” and he called back “I’m sorry I didn’t let Nick come now!”, and I giggled and was very grateful no one else was here, that it was only the two of us.

We went on swimming for a while. The sun was dazzling in its white brightness and the sea reflected its light in billions of glittering dots on its deep blue surface. 

David dived again and reappeared right in front of me, gasping for air and shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. It looked dark brown now, almost black. His eyes were a bright shade of blue fixed on my face and his smile gleamed white as he smiled broadly. We were both swimming on the spot, trying not to drift apart, and as if moving of its own accord, my right hand found his waist underwater, trying to steady myself holding on to him. His hand brushed my side and my lips opened at the exact moment where he shoved me playfully and flung his body to the side, back into the sea, while I was shouting unprintable things at him and sloshing around lots of salt water. I could hear him laughing and informed him that he was the worst of the whole lot. 

“And besides, I’m getting a bit cold!” I shouted after him. He turned around. 

“Let’s swim back to the beach, then!” 

I grimaced, rolling my eyes, angry at myself because I was laughing now. 

David was floating on his back when I caught up with him, eyes closed, his chest heaving gently just below the water surface. He was ignoring me, still not opening his eyes, but the twitching corners of his mouth betrayed him, and I wrapped my arms around his midriff and pulled him down, forcing him to acknowledge my presence. He struggled against my grip, both of us laughing like children, and I felt his body so close to mine, my leg pushing against his groin at one point and I quickly moved it, but then he’d freed himself anyway and was swimming towards the beach at such a pace that it took all my strength to keep up with him.

David got out of the water before me and as I reached the sand, he was standing there with one hand on his hips, the other screening his eyes again, and the sunlight was drawing him out like a statue, the soft shadows along the contours of his shoulders, the lines of his slim hips and his strong, lean legs. Majestic fucking bastard.

When I struggled upright, he’d turned around and was walking to the spot where we’d left our things. He was lying flat on his back when I reached him, his eyes closed again. I coughed loudly. “That’s my towel, you know” I stated in what I hoped was a stern voice. 

David brought one hand up to his face and I could see the dark hair under his arms. “Would you be prepared to share it? I apologize, I forgot to bring my own.”

I had to smile. “You’re lucky it’s a big towel. Shove over, will you?” 

He complied and I lay down next to him with a contented sigh. My thoughts, though, were swirling around like a swarm of tiny silver fish. The look in his eyes just before he’d playfully pushed me away haunted me, and I could still feel the touch of his hand on my side underwater, and my upper thigh grazing his… 

I looked at his calm face, my gaze trailing downwards to his gently moving chest and his flat stomach. Just as I was contemplating the wet fabric of his swimming trunks sticking to his skin and blushing even more, he opened his eyes and turned to look at me. “You know what?” he said in that voice I’d fallen in love with the first time I heard “Cymbaline”.  
“Cymbaline”. What a beautiful song, and this man had sung and played on it. Yes, here I was, sitting next to my favourite rock star. It was moments like this that reminded me he was rather famous, and used to being around people who… all sorts of people… What did he think of me? Why did he think I was here?

David leaned towards me, smiling carefully from beneath his long lashes. “Rosalie?”

I was tracing patterns on the towel between us. “Hmm?”

He hesitated. I managed an encouraging smile.


	5. Chapter 5

David leaned towards me, smiling carefully from beneath his long lashes. “Rosalie?”

I was tracing patterns on the towel between us. “Hmm?”

He hesitated. I managed an encouraging smile. 

He put his hand to my cheek, the gentlest touch imaginable, and kissed me on the lips.

A seagull cried wistfully and the waves kept rolling onto the wet sand while my world came crashing down off its hinges and all that was left were raw sensations. The towel was sandy and the small grains were sticking to our skin and David’s lips tasted of salt, but when I opened my mouth for him and he slipped his tongue inside, he didn’t taste of the sea but only of himself, a sweet taste not unlike the way he smelled. Masculine, heady and delicious. I ran my tongue along the contours of his cupid’s bow and he sucked my lower lip between his teeth, his palm still against my cheek while I raised my hand to place it over his thudding heart. His skin wasn’t even wet anymore, not even cool from our swim but warm, and so smooth. 

David drew back slightly and we both gasped for breath. 

(Why does he think I’m here?)

He ran his palm down my side, slowly, following it with his eyes, then looking at my face again as he brought his hand up and placed it over my left breast. 

(Oh…)

I pressed my own hand against his muscular chest more firmly, felt his heart beating faster now. David sought my eyes. “Do you want to..?” he asked in a slightly raspy voice that made me shiver and tingle all over. 

(He’s a rock star)

“God, David, yes.” My other hand touched his face. “Now, please, let’s… let’s do it now…” 

(you’re acting like a groupie)  
(just like a sex-crazed little groupie, so ordinary)  
(Leave me alone)

I leaned in to resume our kiss, and he opened his lips and our tongues met again, his taste - smell - touch – I couldn’t even think anymore - he – he was overwhelming. The sky might have been folding over us. His hand that was on my breast squeezed gently and I jumped, quivering with pleasure - he caressed me slowly and slid his broad, warm palm over my back and unlaced my bikini top. 

We were still kissing hungrily, and my hand was stroking his strong, hard chest, drawing circles around a small nipple, when he lowered his head to my breasts and I felt his lips there, and his tongue, and I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder and cried out, mouth against his warm skin.

(I’m not. I love him.)

My hand got tangled in his hair, the other one still exploring his chest - I took his nipple between two fingers - and it felt so soft and hard at the same time, a tender little nub - and as I pinched it he jerked back slightly but he didn’t stop what he was doing…

(what am I to him, though? Does he feel the same?)

I lowered myself down carefully until I was lying on my back and David climbed on top of me, raising his head to look into my eyes and I took his face in my hands, that face I loved, and once again I was stunned by the incredible soulfulness in his eyes as we kissed again, hungrily, the sounds of the ocean and each other’s heavy breathing a tender soundtrack.

(I think he does)  
(I don’t want to think anymore)

I hugged him, his broad back feeling so solid and reliable. I traced the lines of it, felt for his shoulder blades, his ribcage under the smooth skin, the soft hair under his arms, I squeezed his bicep and ran my hands all over his sun-warmed body. 

(David…)

His long fingers were trailing down my waist as he kissed my neck, licking and even biting now and again, and then I felt his hand resting lightly between my legs, and the look he gave me, it was the sweetest, most caring look, asking if I wanted him to do what he wanted to do, and I replied by smiling at him and whispering “yes, darling, yes”. 

And when he kissed me again and slipped his fingers into my bikini panties and between my legs, I grabbed his perfect arse, one hand on each buttock, and lowered my head and groaned into his chest, because he was caressing me now, and then he pushed one finger inside me and moved it gently and I was on the verge of sobbing, pulling his body closer to mine, I needed him to be closer, closer still, to feel his weight and his drumming heart and the warmth of his skin and his musky fragrance. 

I squeezed his buttocks and bucked my hips up against his hand, and he shifted slightly so that suddenly I could feel his hardness against my upper thigh. He groaned low in his throat and I couldn’t breathe, he’d exposed every single nerve in my body and now I was feeling too MUCH and surely I’d break down and die…

“David, please… I can’t…” I whispered desperately, kissing his sweaty forehead, his neck and his lips again. My hands reached around his upper body, searching the smooth planes of his stomach, then gliding downwards and tugging at his swimming trunks. 

He reached down and pulled them off himself. Then mine, sliding down my bare legs. A motion of his pelvis and I felt his soft, wiry pubic hair brush over my inner thighs, and then his hard length, and I arched my back up to meet him, my arms locked around his strong upper body, my legs on his, feeling the muscles in his calves contracting, sand sticking to his skin and to mine as well. When he entered me, it was the greatest relief I’d ever felt. I was aching for him, and now he was pushing deeper into me, and because he was quite big it hurt a little, though the pain was nothing, nothing at all compared to the pleasure I felt, and the pleasure it was to hear his soft groans, “aaah” and “Gosh…” and then to realize that he was all the way inside me and that he felt better than anything I could have imagined.

David began to move, and the world was reduced to feeling. Push, gently, then harder, deeper, and he’d groan and stay like that for endless seconds, supporting his weight on his strong arms, before he withdrew again, pull back, push back, again, again, again, until it became impossible to tell our heavy breathing apart, the sounds we made, moaning, raspy, gasping sounds blending together with the song of the ocean and the wind and the seagulls.

I think there was sand in my hair, and the sun was burning down from the French sky, and David was on top of me and inside me and kissing me and breathing into my neck when he buried his face there, never breaking the rhythm, his dark blonde head under my chin, his hair smelling like the sea and his skin so warm and the weight of his body on my own, moving together.

(I love you.)

He went on and on, pumping in and out of me rather slowly in the beginning, but our breathing was steadily growing more labored and he began thrusting faster, on and on and on, and when I felt him starting to writhe around, gasping and shivering and spasming, I gripped him tightly and pressed my lips to his forehead as he came, and the sensation of holding him in my arms and feeling his release inside me made me follow suit. His hair was brushing over my collarbones and I threw my head back and let the sun sting my eyes, and then I felt David relax in my embrace and he rested his head under my chin and sighed quietly. One moment later he rolled himself off of me though, embracing me again as he lay on his back. I crawled on top of his body and we just lay together, catching our breath, smiling silently at each other. He ran his hands up and down my back, in slow motion, so placidly, as though time were meaningless.

For a long while. There was nothing more important to do. Maybe someone discovered the meaning of it all, maybe a new galaxy formed while we were lying there on our little stretch of coast, I wouldn’t know. I felt serene. Stretched out on David’s chest, I thought that he seemingly liked me a lot, then I thought that maybe he loved me too, and then I thought nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

I was first to speak again.

“Are you going to play me a song?”

“Hm hmm.” He smiled up at me lazily while I was writing invisible words on his chest with my fingertips. 

“And sing?”

He squinted in the sunlight. “I’ve been know to do that occasionally, yes.”

I grinned and leaned down to kiss the spot where I suspected his heart. He made a content purring sound and continued, “I wouldn’t know how to earn a living otherwise because I don’t know how to do anything else for a fact.”

“So modest and silly.”

“A bit. And you’re wonderful.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Thank you for coming along with me this afternoon, I couldn’t have hoped for more fantastic company.”

I kissed him back. “Aaaaaw, see? Silly.” I couldn’t get enough of his taste. “David, I’m so happy right now.”

That smile. “Me too. I’ll fetch that guitar, yeah?” – “Hm hmm.” He struggled into a sitting position with a groan and I rolled myself off of him. I hadn’t thought of that before, but suddenly putting my bikini back on seemed like a good idea, in case someone else turned up with nothing on their mind but a perfectly decent sunbath. David too climbed back into his swimming trunks and took the guitar out of its case.

(He doesn’t think I’m superficial. He likes me. He’s at ease with me. He’s happy.) 

I rested my chin on my folded hands and watched him tune it, noting once again how his demeanour changed when he had a guitar in his hands. He looked so at ease when he was intently focused on the instrument, as though he was tapping into the source of his artistry, fully connected with that part of himself where the music came from. It was a subtle transformation but undeniably there, every time. 

“I love when that happens” I said fondly. He looked up from the strings, lips pursed. “Hmm, what?”

“You… doing that. That’s your guitar face.” I grinned, giddy and bubbly. David broke into a smile and bent his head over the instrument again, pushing his hair from his face. He played a couple of chords. I nodded my head and tapped my toes.

“Your guitar concentration face. Can you play Cymbaline, please?”

He could.

Later, we sat there, looking at the sea, and talked. 

David wasn’t garrulous at all; when he felt like there was nothing of relevance to be said, he wouldn’t say anything. I remembered how reserved he’d been in the beginning. Certainly very lovely and polite, but reticent. Shy, I think. But once he warmed up to you, he was the most wonderful person to be around. 

We found out we both loved Dylan and the Beatles, and I found out how much fun it was talking to a musician you admired yourself about other musicians you both admired. I never took my eyes off him even once. David had a way of speaking that was intensely pleasant to listen to. He crafted his sentences with consideration, and always talked slowly and calmly in the prettiest English accent, every vowel in place, even when his eyes sparkled with boyish excitement as we discussed “Like A Rolling Stone”.

The guitar was still on his lap, and he’d touch it from time to time, fiddling with the strings, running his palm over the sleek wood, strumming a chord that would fade into the wind and drift off over the ocean. 

The same breeze would then blow his hair around his face but he’d remain completely unfazed, until I couldn’t keep still any longer and reached out to tuck the loose strands behind his ear. David put his arm around me and let me rest my head on his shoulder, smiling down on me.

I figured it was still much too early to tell him I loved him.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun beat down on us because it evidently had nothing better to do.

“Look at those rocks over there…” David pointed to a rock formation about a hundred yards away. They looked as though they concealed at least three caves and a hidden pirate treasure. Rough black edges and shiny surfaces reflecting the sunlight like darkened mirrors. 

I raised my head from David’s shoulder and squinted. “Hmmm? Not gonna lie, I’m looking at your arm, not the rocks…” I ran a finger over his well-muscled forearm and he squeezed me to get my attention. “Shall we swim over there?”

“Hm, yeah, why?”

“Because it’s getting very hot here on the sand. Because we could find a nice spot to sit on. Because we CAN.”

“Very convincing. Let’s go!”

David tried to get up. He looked at me. “Then why are you clinging to my arm and holding me down?” he inquired patiently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“I’m forcing you to carry me to the water.”

He pursed his lips, pretending to think hard. “Alright” he said at last. Without further preamble, I found myself picked up like a sea shell - or maybe more like a sailor’s sea bag, because he threw me over his shoulder and strode towards the water. 

“David! Not like this! Aaah!”

I thought he’d drop me straight into the waves and was prepared to hurl insults at his head, because English gentlemen don’t indulge in that sort of behavior, do they, and anyway – but suddenly he stopped, grabbed me around the waist and swung me around, holding me in his arms in a more traditional way now and laughing – his laugh, how could I be angry with a man who laughed at me like this… it was like scrambling for snow to form a snowball under a blowtorch. So I joined in, and then we kissed. It was a very sweet kiss, unhurried, savouring, my hands tenderly cupping his face. 

David rested his forehead against mine, his lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. 

“I could drop you now” he murmured.  
I kissed him again. “Do it.”

The cold made for a slight shock, and the waves crashed down pretty hard, and the French sea isn’t any less salty than the English counterpart. For a few moments, the world turned into a swirling, foaming, sloshing whirl of translucent greens and blues and pearly white spray and slippery sea plants. Luckily, I was quite an accomplished swimmer, though – I resurfaced to nearly beat David when he insisted on racing me to the black rocks.


	8. Chapter 8

We swam around the rock formation, which formed something resembling a crescent-shaped bay with several miniature islands jutting out of the sea. It seemed impossible to climb any of them, but there were several terrace-like spurs where one could probably stand upright without diving underwater. I was just about to suggest we catch our breath there and maybe kiss some more when David turned his head, apparently listening hard. 

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

I tried. “It sounds like a… motorboat?” This was disappointing. Could one not have a little privacy a hundred yards off the French coast on a Wednesday afternoon?

“I think I can hear voices too…” He did a few swim strokes in the direction of the faint sounds, then rolled his eyes. “And I think I know who went and rented a motorboat.”

I swam after him, but he motioned for the curved rock shape where we’d be hidden from whoever was merrily cruising around here. “I don’t feel like making small talk with Roger and Nick right now” he said drily, but giving me puppy dog eyes at the same time – probably in case I should object or call him rude, which I didn’t plan on doing. By a fortunate coincidence, I did not feel like making small talk either.

We found it was in fact possible to stand on a hidden ledge without running the risk to drown, shoulder to shoulder with our backs pressed against the cool, wet rock. Two distinct voices came drifting across the waves. 

“I’m telling you, Rog, it wasn’t a ray.“

“Well in this case you have extremely poor eyesight, because it clearly was.”

“No further comment.”

“Let’s not get too close to these rocks, you don’t know what it looks like beneath the surface.”

“Hmm hmm, let’s not get too close, thank you” David muttered, then “I didn’t say that”. I was holding on to his shoulder, and at this I gave him a long look, shook my head and giggled. There was something mischievous in his grin.

“Where do you think David and Rosalie went for their swim?” That was Nick’s voice. “Maybe they’re somewhere around here.”

“I don’t think they’d appreciate us dropping by to say hello even if they were.”

“Yeah, well, you’re probably right about that. It was still NOT a ray, though!”

“You’re being obstinate.”

David rolled his eyes, but he chuckled. The voices were fading back into the sound of the waves now. Apparently the motorboat was leaving. I heard Nick and Roger bicker about miscellaneous sea dwellers some more, but after a few minutes we were alone with the seagulls and the ocean once more.

“Is this how your recording sessions go?” I enquired.

“Usually” said David. He strained his arm at an uncomfortable-looking angle to scratch a spot somewhere on his shoulder blade. “Sometimes we’re fairly grown-up about things, though. I hope.”

I looked very critical. “Not sure how optimistic I am about this.”

David turned around and trapped me between his body and the wall of rock, his hands on either side of my shoulders and that mischievous sexy smile on his face again. “Fair enough…” 

I got distracted by his arms so close to me. He had the most beautiful shoulders, and those sculpted biceps, and of course his hands… he interrupted my observations by kissing me with lips that tasted of salt and that sweet taste he just has. “You zoned out there” he said, smiling. “Just watching you” I said. 

“Is it interesting? Will you tell me what you’re seeing?” He ran a hand through my hair.

I put mine on his chest. The water only covered him up to his pectoral muscles, and I felt his wet skin, the drumming of his heartbeat. I pretended to eye his features critically. “Someone with a REALLY pretty nose.” He shook his head, chuckling, as I ran a fingertip down the perfectly straight line of his nose, whistling appreciatively. “What, want me to go on? Erm, my favourite guitarist and singer” I replied with an innocent grin.

“Oh, thank you!” David laughed. “Shall we talk about the top ten songs from our catalogue and… how we came up with the name of the band? An old favourite.”

“I’d rather just discuss the guitarist for now.”

David’s hands drifted to my waist. “Is that really all I am to you?” He ran his broad palm up the inside of my thigh.

“All? Are you being modest? I think you’re a musical genius!” My right hand was still on his chest, feeling for his muscles and caressing his left nipple with my thumb, but the other one moved to his back and further down. I gasped when he pulled my bikini panties down an inch or two underwater.

“Hmm... that’s very nice of you” he rasped in my ear. His incredible guitarist fingers were doing wondrous things down there. His voice made me shiver. “And you’re... oh fuck…”

“I’m what?” He edged closer to me, pushing me back against the rough rock, his body against mine.

“An amazing vocalist on top of everything else…” I slid my hands down to the curve of his arse and grabbed him firmly. He growled low in his throat and pulled his hand back from between my legs, running it around my thigh. “I see…” he said. “What songs?”

“I admit, I have a soft spot for the sexy ones…” I was arching into him, trying not to lose my balance. “Those hard rock vocals, you know, the gravelly shouty ones like Nile Song – “

“Thanks, so we have my guitar, my voice… is that all you like about me?” He just wouldn’t stop teasing, and damn me if I didn’t love it. David pulled my leg up and hooked it around his hips. I giggled nervously, excited but a bit awkward. “Fuck, David, are you really going to – “


	9. Chapter 9

He just wouldn’t stop teasing, and damn me if I didn’t love it. David pulled my leg up and hooked it around his hips. I giggled nervously, excited but a bit awkward. “Fuck, David, are you really going to – “

“Hm hmm?” He was smiling at me, more beautiful than every god of the sea. I wrapped my arms tightly around his broad shoulders, still afraid I might slip, and pressed my upper body against his strong chest. His hard length was resting against the inside of my leg. I just wanted him to slip inside me again. His large hand had a firm grip on my upper thigh, allowing me to lean in and kiss him. “Your voice, especially on some songs…” I whispered when I drew back, “it makes me have really unholy thoughts.”

I felt his hardness brush past me. I twitched and moaned, but he didn’t enter me. “That sounds intriguing” he whispered back. “What about?”

Patience wasn’t my forte. I lost it. “Fuck, David, how long are you going to do this for?!”

He laughed his irresistible laugh, kissed me, stealing all my remaining breath, and lowered his head on my shoulder, drawing my leg up a bit higher and pushing with a measured but strong thrust, careful not to knock us both over. It proved to be a complicated task.

“I suppose the answer to your question is ‘until we both fall over and drown’” David observed. His fingers were digging into my skin and he kept trying patiently. I moaned loudly when I felt his touch, nudging, prodding, and then he entered me and with a satisfied raspy groan and a few precise movements of his hips he was nestled inside me again. I gave a long sigh. “God, you feel so good. I can’t even tell you how good you feel, David.”

His voice was muffled by my shoulder, and I could feel his warm breath. “You feel amazing, too.”

“Move. Please. David.”

“But we haven’t talked about how the band got its name yet – “

“MOVE or I swear I’ll punch you.”

“Would you do that? – OH!”

“Ouch, how is your shoulder so hard?”

“Do you want us to fall over and drown? I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst way to go, but still – “

“You know what I want, bastard.”

“Ah, right.”

“AAH! Fuck, oh, fuck – “

“What’s wrong now?”

“Keep going. I don’t care if we drown, keep going.”

David rested his head against the rock face, closing his eyes. “God…” He sighed, still out of breath.

“I keep thinking the fish were watching” I wheezed. It was a thought that had passed through my head and somehow, at this moment, it seemed relevant to share it. I was still clinging to David’s shoulders, supported by his arms around my middle, and giggling into the crook of his neck. Pleasant little waves swashed against our bodies and washed over the shiny rock. Our heads felt hot, and everything was wet, and we were alone and crazy.

The dark sapphire sea swayed and rolled and murmured gently. Above us, blinding blue sky; so much sky.

David held me, his calm face with the closed eyes turned towards the sun, his back against the wall of stone, until we’d both calmed down. Some energy seemed to have flown back into his body when he eventually lifted his head again and looked at me, his eyes bright.

Then a shadow flickered across his face. “I… we didn’t use condoms. I’m sorry – “

“Sssh, silly.” I put my forefinger on his lips and grinned when he closed his mouth immediately, looking like a boy. “Don’t worry, David. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

He unfurrowed his brow a little hesitantly. “Alright…” I withdrew my finger and kissed him hard to erase any doubt left in his mind. As distraction went, I evidently succeeded because when we separated, he took a deep breath before suggesting, “Let’s swim over there, get out of the water and walk back along the beach.”

“Okay. Before we go - you know what?”

“What?”

“This was crazy.”

“I knew that. It was really good though, wasn’t it?”

“What a stupid question. We’ll clearly have to do it more often.”


	10. Chapter 10

We emerged from the water and set off in the direction of our towels and clothes. It wasn’t too far, just a nice little walk along the beach. Which happened to take us past an enormous boulder. It looked as though a giant kid had shot his football over the neighbour’s fence and forgotten to collect it. Something about it was challenging – a towering stone football shamelessly lying around on a flat stretch of pale golden sand like that. The only thing missing was a big red sign with flashing letters spelling out the words “Climb up”.

I tilted my head to look at the massive rock. “You know what?”

“I don’t”, David said, shielding his eyes from the sun. “What is it?”

“I’ve just had the wackiest idea.”

“That sounds promising.”

“I’m going to climb that rock and jump down into your arms. You know, the way you see it in movies! Only that I’d never shout anything as stupid as TADAAH! once I make it to the top.”

David laughed. “What kind of films was it that you’ve worked on before?”

“Boring ones, compared to what we’re doing now.” I leaned against him, running one hand up his arm and squeezing his bicep playfully. “You could catch me alright. I’m sure of that.”

He kissed the top of my head and sighed with a boyish smile. “And I’m sure you could climb that piece of rock in a heartbeat. Show me?”

The surface was rough and gritty and grown over with algae in some places, but it took me less than a minute to scramble all the way to the top. I looked down at David, who was watching with one hand on his hip and the other over his eyes, and raised my arms. “Tadaaah!”

He shook his head and laughed. “When are you going to jump?”

“Now!”

He quickly opened his arms. His reassuring look and the subtle nod of his head. I jumped.

The world rushed past in a blur of blue and sandy gold, as for a fraction of a second I felt nothing below my feet, and nothing around me but wind, and all I heard was blood pounding in my ears. My eyes squeezed shut too late. When I opened them again, I saw David’s face right in front of mine and felt his strong arms holding me, pressing me tight against his warm, comforting body. Slowly, his face broke into a smile and he made a growling sound, squeezing me until I squealed. 

“You’re very, very entertaining!” he said, gripping my upper thighs to hoist me up and hold me more comfortably. I felt proud, and grinned. He kissed me and I put my arms around his shoulders. “Right”, David said. “What would you like to do now? Shall we walk back?”

I ran my fingers through the long, wet hair resting on his back. “Actually, I’d like to do it once again…?”

He chuckled and kissed my throat, and I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his masculine, ocean-y fragrance like perfume. “Go for it” he said, gently setting me down on the sand. I beamed. “Thank you!”

This time though, I didn’t reach the top. I’d never had any reason to dislike algae up to that point in my life, but when I was four feet above the ground, lost my footing, slipped and tumbled and twisted my ankle and hit the ground with badly scratched hands, shins and feet, all because of the slimy green plant stuff, I cursed it, and I cursed loudly. 

Then the pain in my ankle hit me, seemingly drilling down to the bone like a corkscrew, and I cried out. But David was already beside me, crouching on the sand, carefully taking my right foot in his hands. He looked intently at my face. “Sssssh. Look at me, Rose, love. Breathe... Where else does it hurt?”

I choked back some tears and found my voice. “It’s just the ankle, I think. I twisted it.” David lowered his eyes, running his fingers over my foot ever so gently until I calmed down, the pain subsiding to a dull throb as long as I held the foot completely still.

“I’ll carry you, darling” he said. “Let’s get you on my back.”

“Oh, I’m getting a piggyback ride!”

“It’s good to see you can already smile again” remarked David, turning around in his crouching position and motioning for me to climb on his back. “Can you get up, dear?”  
I reached for his shoulders and pulled myself into an upward position, wincing. “Ouch – “ 

He turned his head. “Shall I pull you up?” His strong fingers gripped mine, and somehow, I managed to cling on to his shoulders and lock my legs around his waist as he carefully got up. He didn’t even groan, but I still demanded, “Don’t say anything about how heavy I am.”

“You aren’t, and I wasn’t going to.” He turned his head back as far as he could to give me a smile. “Are you alright?”

I pushed some strands of hair aside and pressed my face into the back of his neck. My hands were clasped tightly on his muscular chest. “Ouch... yes. I’m great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just adding a short note because... I'd REALLY love some feedback... please? Evidently some people are reading this story, and if someone just dropped me a line or two - it really doesn't have to be a long comment! Just something! That would make me happy :)


	11. Chapter 11

David carried me all the way back to our little camp, lowered me down as if I was a particularly precious guitar and insisted on helping me to get dressed. My ankle was throbbing insistently. I didn’t put up much of a fight. When he’d got dressed himself, David carried me to the car and drove into town.

I wound down the window and let the wind dishevel my wet hair even more. It whipped around my ears and I began to cool down as the biting breeze dried the sweat on my face and bare arms. Tiny salt crystals were sticking to my skin when I carefully felt for the twisted foot. 

“Wonder if French hospitals are any different” I said.

“I don’t know. Maybe the food is better.” David spotted a promising street sign and turned left. When he gripped the steering wheel, the muscles in his arms moved the way they did when he played guitar. “Do you speak French?” he asked, eyes firmly fixed on the street where everyone was driving on the wrong side. 

“I probably shouldn’t lie, should I?” I said.

“So you don’t?”

“Non. Do you?”

“A little.”

“You’re a git! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

He turned to look at me, amused. “Why, is it important?”

“I’m figuring it’s really sexy.”

“Hm. Peut-être, mais j’en suis pas tout à fait sûr.”

“Oh God” I moaned in an exaggerated manner, clutching my heart, “shut up before I jump on you and we both die in a stupid car accident!”

“Don’t worry” said David, parking the car in a very narrow gap and pointing at the building that towered before us, “end of the line. All out.”

“You’ll have to carry me again, my knight in shining armour.”

“I exist to serve.”

He let me climb on his back again and carried me to the reception, where he spoke French with a nurse who kept batting her eyelashes at him, and told me we’d have to wait a while. “I think even I got that” I said. “You sounded fantastic, though.”

We sat down on two uncomfortable plastic chairs and I leaned against David, my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and we waited.

“I’m sorry I ruined the afternoon by being stupid” I muttered after two minutes of silence. David, who was much better at keeping quiet than me but still didn’t seem to mind my loquaciousness, immediately replied, “You’re not stupid, Rosalie. And you didn’t ruin anything. Please don’t worry. You’re a ton of fun to be around.” He kissed the top of my head and a quarter of an hour later we were called up. 

The English-speaking doctor ended up putting my ankle in a splint and dismissing us with a litany of superfluous warnings (“Do I look like I’m planning to go hiking?” I complained, and David said that I didn’t and that the French physician had better tell me not to climb any more rocks instead).


	12. Chapter 12

The soft light of dusk hung in the magnolias and dark green trees when David parked his car in front of the hotel. Its roof gleamed in warm shades of peach and ruby and long, spindly shadows spilled over the ground like blue watercolours. 

He helped me out of the car and picked me up again; I probably looked too weak and fragile for the arduous walk to the front door. “What did they even give me the crutch for?” I gave him a thankful kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck. “This is by far the best mode of transportation. You’re welcome to keep this up until I’ve recovered.” 

“Of course. We’ll get you a little bell and you can ring whenever you need your devoted riding animal.”

“Great! I’ll ring once when I require a piggyback ride and twice when I’d rather be carried like this.”

“Jolly clever of you.” David shook his head and chuckled softly, pressing a kiss on the back of my hand. The rhythm of his steps made it feel as though I was a child being dandled. I realised how tired I was and closed my eyes for a moment, my head nestled against his shoulder. The sound of Rick’s mellow voice made me open them again. He was on the veranda, cigarette between his fingers, blowing bitter pale blue smoke rings into the sweet evening air. “Good evening.”

“Good evening to you too” David replied in that subtle mock-formal tone. The keyboardist looked at my splint, but when he failed to ask what had happened I took it upon myself to inform him, “I had an accident, twisted my ankle, and now we know what French hospitals look like on the inside.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you very unwell?”

“No, don’t worry, it’s not too bad. Thanks.”

“She enjoys being carried, though” added David.

“What did you and the others get up to, Rick?” I enquired sanctimoniously.

“Nick and Rog came back half an hour ago bickering about rays, I think.” Rick looked mildly bemused. “At least I suppose that was the word. Why they would squabble over beams of light of all things, I cannot imagine.”

“I have no idea how they always come up with this stuff” David commented.

I tried hard to keep a straight face. “Maybe it was about Ray Davies?”

“You think they bumped into him wandering around in the French countryside?”

“Well, it was probably not Ray Davies, then.”

“Excuse us, Rick” said David, interrupting the stimulating conversation, “I’m taking her upstairs.”

“Maybe they were arguing over the lightshow for your next tour!” I called over David’s shoulder as he carried me through the door and upstairs. Then we allowed ourselves to start giggling together.

I knew where David’s hotel room was because it was only one floor away from mine and yes, also because I’d spied on him. Even though we’d only been here for a week, it bore that signature stamp called "young man’s messy room". The clothes, a pair of jeans and some black trousers along with shirts and t-shirts, thrown over chairs; the notable absence of the little personal items my girlfriends and I always scattered around rooms we slept in like hair ties and hand cream; in a corner, two guitars and some electronic gear. And the air smelled of masculine things, like shaving cream, and that same fragrance I knew from David’s t-shirts, his hair and his skin. I felt right at home. He closed the door, lowered me down on the enormous bed and opened a window. Faint chatter came drifting up to us.

“You’re fine with spending the night here, aren’t you?” David asked, winning the rhetorical question prize. I shrugged and sighed tragically. “Well, someone will have to be by my side in case I wake up at night only to realise my foot has fallen off.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” He looked a tiny little bit smug. “I’ll just nip outside again to get my guitar, okay?”

“Sure. I mean, you only have two more here. That won’t do at all.”

When I winked, he gave me a kiss on the mouth and disappeared down the hallway.


	13. Chapter 13

Most people feel a little uneasy when they’re left alone in a strange room that belongs to someone else. The furniture seems to watch you. Drawers stare with knob eyes. _No, you’re not going to pry around. But we know you’ve thought about it._ Only one drawer on the nightstand _._ A tattered French dictionary and an empty mug on top of it. Did David drink coffee? Or only tea? Did he read books before going to sleep? What books? Not dictionaries?

“Oh GOD” I muttered, flopping down on his bed. The mattress groaned indulgently against the ornate metal frame. I rubbed my face with both hands as if that motion could arrange everything that was swirling around in my head into neat, orderly rows. The things that had happened today could have filled three months to the brim. I was tired. My ankle hurt. My mind wondered what was going to happen when this little holiday was over. My stupid heart was just soaring. I shook my head, a big grin spreading across my face. I was glad there was no mirror; it must have looked moronic.

There were some grains of sand stuck under my fingernails. I inspected them for a good minute before picking them clean one by one.

Amazing, how the bed smelled like David. I buried my face in the crumpled pillow in an attempt to calm down. It was a relaxing shade of blue. Like the sea this afternoon, I thought, still grinning.

“I love you” I told the empty room in subdued tones, and the window frame creaked. “I love you, I love you, I love you… wonder what you’d say to that?”

What David said when he got back was, “Are you alright, Rosalie?”

What I thought was, “It should be illegal to be this sweet, will you look at me melting away”, but my cowardly mouth turned it into a casual, “Baby, you were gone five minutes. No one’s climbed through the window and kidnapped me. As for this thing -” I indicated the splint, “still a nuisance, as it was when you left the room, but apart from that, I’m right as rain!” I added, “I’m here with you. Thanks.”

He smiled a tad sheepishly, took his guitar and started strumming very softly, evidently lost in thought. I watched and listened for a while, until he suddenly snapped out of his own little music world, set the instrument down with the others and announced that we’d had nothing for dinner yet.

“Shall we order something?” He waved the room service menu in my direction.

“I’m ordering” I clarified, reaching for the menu card. “You’re banned, my dear.”

David took a quick step back to avoid my hands. “What? Why am I banned?”

“Because you’re always stuffing your face with that fast food rubbish!”

“What? Have you been watching me eat?”

“Maybe. Who cares? The salient point is, we’re having a good, healthy supper tonight. Give me that bloody room service card!”

David didn’t move, preferring to take his time reading the various dishes that were on offer. If my foot hadn’t been in a splint, I’d have jumped up and wrestled with him. “Daaaaaaavid” I said, the warning evident in every letter.

“They make really good chips and steaks here” he said unblinkingly. “Have you tried them?”

I grabbed my crutch, levered myself up from the bed and limped over to him, holding out my hand. David saw my raised eyebrows. “I think I’ll have the chips” he asserted with an angelic smile, but he let me grab the menu card without putting up a fight.

“It’s cute that you think that. Where’s the phone? We’re having vegetarian lasagna with salad.”

“Are we?”

“Indeed.” I gave him a kiss and reached for the phone.

David cocked his head and folded his arms, but he didn’t object. I’d underestimated his obstinacy though. When the knock came on our door and a smiling French guy delivered our marvelously healthy supper on a tray, David pressed a banknote in his hand and slipped past him with a “Thank you, be back in two ticks!” We heard his swift footsteps on the stairs.

“Where has se English gentleman gone?” the hotel employee wondered.

“To get some chips” I groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by an interview where David was quoted as saying "When I was in my 20s, I was trying my best to go through life in the unhealthiest way possible".


	14. Chapter 14

“Uh, you’re looking disapproving” ‘se English gentleman’ remarked nine minutes later, closing the door behind him with the hand that wasn’t holding a full plate. I was seated on the bed with my arms folded, shaking my head. “Impossible. You are an absolute scoundrel, Mr. Gilmour.”

“You haven’t touched your salad yet” said the scoundrel, sitting down beside me. I punched him right in the stomach, making him jerk with a grin. “Because I was waiting for you, rascal! Give me those chips!”

“No need to shout, I was planning on sharing them, you know, darling.”

I took the plate from his hands and set it down. He managed to grab a handful and stuff them into his mouth with his most nonchalant smile, blue eyes sparkling cheekily.   
“Okay, we’re sharing them, just like this lasagna and this salad. It’s high time you started living a healthier life.”

David inspected the vegetarian dishes. “Does it have aubergine in it?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t like aubergine very much.”

“How old are you, seven? Aubergine is good for you.”

“How old are you, two years younger than me?”

“In theory” I said. “But I’m more reasonable.”

David looked at my ankle.

“More reasonable when it comes to food” I grumbled. 

“Why don’t you have all of the good aubergine and I’ll eat the other vegetables?” He looked so unfairly cute I put my hand on his chest and kissed him. “Alright” I said, sucking on his lower lip as he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I could discern the greasy potato flavor of the banned fast food, though it couldn’t overpower his own natural, oh so delicious taste. “But you’re having some salad too. At least half of it, or more because you’re bigger than me.” My hand crept down towards his belly. “Okay?”

“Hmmmmmm okay” he mumbled with his hands on my hips. After another minute, he broke the kiss, pushed his hair behind his ears and reached for a fork. I gave him a broad smile and tucked in as well. “It’s rather good” he said, returning the smile. 

“Hm hmm. You should try the aubergine.”

“No” he replied in his placid but unshakable manner.

“You’re the most stubborn man in the whole wide world, beside some other records you also hold.”

“Really?” He licked some salad sauce from the corner of his mouth. “What are those?”

“I’ll tell you sometime.” The lasagna plates were scraped clean and I reached for the chips. “Do you know what the French guy who brought the food said when you’d run off?”

“Something like ‘The English are funny?”

“Exactly. And then he said “They make great music, though. I like.”

David looked delighted in that bashful way he has. “That’s nice.”

I smiled at how sweet he was, offering him the last potato chip. He took it and put it in my mouth instead. 

“Are you not scared I might bite your finger?”

“You are rather good at biting, I believe” he replied, licking the salt off his fingers, then leaning in to graze my neck with his white teeth.


	15. Chapter 15

I smiled at how sweet he was, offering him the last potato chip. He took it and put it in my mouth instead.

“Are you not scared I might bite your finger?”

“You are rather good at biting, I believe” he replied, licking the salt off his fingers, then leaning in to graze my neck with his white teeth. I giggled at our corniness even while I pushed his hair behind his ears to gain access to his own neck, and suckled on the skin below his stubbly jaw. Under my mouth, his pulse felt as serenely unwavering as everything about him. I loved how his mere presence could always make me feel safe; yet I imagined my own pulse would not have made a cardiologist particularly happy, the silly thing.

David rested his lips against my throat and my high-strung, dazed mind drifted back to the day I’d bought a copy of “A Saucerful of Secrets” in the London record shop with the candy-apple-coloured doors where the paint came off in coin-sized flakes, but inside the crammed shelves held every rock album worth listening to. “More” had been next, with “Cymbaline”; and the follow-up, “Ummagumma”, with that clever _Droste_ effect cover where the long-haired guitarist sat barefoot on a chair, his face in the shade. You had to take a close look if you wanted to study his languid features.

I remembered sitting in my room at home hugging my own knees while the sounds of an electric guitar and an electric voice that seemed to gnaw on the edges of my soul came pouring forth from vinyl grooves. What did I have? Crinkled newspaper clippings, a pile of magazines with torn edges beside my bed, blurry photos from Rolling Stone and NME, the occasional reluctant interview. I’d always imagined hearing his modulated baritone voice say the printed lines. Then the job. The first meeting with David only six days ago. The day had been just as torrid; we - the punctual film crew - had been hanging around in front of the hotel, under the blazing, baking sun of Saint Tropez, tired and a bit bedraggled after hours on hot, scuffed train seats, waiting for the band to arrive. Of course – we wanted something from _them_. I remembered feeling the point very sharply at that moment.

_I pushed my black sunglasses up my nose and sighed loudly. “Don’t know about you, but I’m getting really sick of standing around like an idiot just because rock stars can’t ever get anywhere on time.” Our number one camera man, Mike, shrugged idly, crushing sea-shell-coloured blossoms between his feet and the warm gravel of the driveway. The trees above our heads scattered them like bridesmaids. I picked one out of my hair and rolled my eyes. “We should go into the hotel without them. Why are they not here yet?”_

_The gravel crunched discreetly. “I’m afraid we’re usually like this” said a voice behind me. “I’m really sorry.”_

_I jumped and turned around to identify the speaker. He didn’t sing on their records and his tone was not as familiar to me. The black handlebar moustache gave him away. “Nick Mason?”_

_“Hello, pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand and I dropped the crumpled petal to grasp his fingers. “Pleased to meet you too! I’m Rosalie.” I took off the sunglasses, beaming at him. “And please don’t mind me, I’m just… like that.”_

_“Oh, I didn’t hear a thing” Nick said genially. He turned around. “Hey, hurry up and meet our lovely film crew.”_

_Three other men had just appeared around the bend, and for a moment it was like a record sleeve coming to life. The one with the longest hair wasn’t barefoot this time. A bag slung casually over a broad shoulder, he was the first to reach me, and he gave me a smile. It made my ribs feel too constricting. As though they were about to crush my chest in. “Hello, I’m David.”_

_“I bet you are” I mumbled as I carefully took his outstretched hand to shake it, and the others swarmed around me exchanging casualties and introductions that buzzed on the inside of my skull._

_We had dinner together on a veranda that could only be described as ‘quaint’. There was the sapphire glow of the Mediterranean Sea half-concealed behind a screen of leaves and the last sunlight glinted on wine glasses and dirty plates. I felt its lingering warmth on my back._

_The group dynamic had been determined two bottles of Beaujolais ago, with the outcome an unanimous “these guys are alright”._

_“If you ask me, you should play_ Atom Heart Mother _at the concert. Amazing song.”_

_“Damn, I’ve just remembered we’re going to have to get out of bed early tomorrow…”_

_“Well, I’d rather start working before the sun is strong enough to fry us.”_

_“Hand me the olives, won’t you?”_

_I saw David laugh at some remark, but he was four seats away and again his voice was drowned in the boisterous conversation that had been swashing back and forth across the table for two hours._

_And anyway Nick was talking to me._

_We were inspecting the location of the upcoming gig. Three tons of equipment, too little room and 34 degrees at eleven o’clock compressed into one bustling summer morning._

_“Rosalie, can you give me a hand here?”_

_“Sorry, but I’m trying to work out where we should place the directional microphone and how we can avoid getting the cables into one gigantic knot.” I pointed my chin at the cluster of dangling cables I was clutching in my arms. “I kind of thought that might be obvious.”_

_Mike grimaced and stuck his tongue out and I jokingly gave him the finger. I was the only girl in the group, but by now they all knew I could hold my ground in spite of my dainty appearance, as I’d overheard Roger describe me the day before._

_He was busy talking to the director, while David was bent over his Strat about fifty yards away, tuning, plucking, listening closely and fiddling around with infinite patience. His long hair, very light in the bleaching sun, hung over his face. I dropped the tangled cables and started sorting them out, wondering how he could concentrate with those unruly dark blond strands in his eyes. Now he lifted his head and those eyes found me. Then that voice called out my name. “Rosalie? Could you do me a favour and maybe plug that one in for me?”_

_I got up and leaned onto a large boom pole mic holder. “This black wire here?” Instead of waiting for a reply, I quickly did as he said and he smiled in my direction before turning his attention back to the instrument. Apparently, it had been right. “Yes, that one! Thank you. Thank you very much.”_

_Mike wasn’t pleased. “How come you’re too busy to help me out, but when he says two words you come running?”_

_I picked up the boom pole and sauntered past him. “Mate, are you in Pink Floyd?”_

_His knowing smile was hard to bear._

_He walked past me in the corridor twice. Within two days. Both times I beamed at him although I felt shy and I said “Hey, David”, and he smiled and said “Hello, Rosalie”, and then we walked past each other to vanish downstairs or on a balcony with a postcard view or into our respective rooms, shutting the door._

_I would never be a groupie. “Just so we’re clear, David” I told the mirror in my bathroom on our third night in Saint Tropez. “It’s either marriage and a house in Kensington or nothing.”_

_Then I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face, emitting a short, violent scream._

_“So how is it going?”_

_“Oh, Lin…” I twirled the cord of the telephone around my finger and sighed. “It’s overwhelming, actually. You now they’re my favourite band, and all of a sudden we have breakfast together and I get to witness Roger arguing with our camera guy over soundchecks and who’s better at pronouncing the word_ croissant _. Unreal. They’re both terrible at French, by the way.”_

_My best friend’s giggle sounded strange down the telephone cable, like plastic. “And what about the pretty one? The great guitarist? I thought you were so in love with him?”_

_“I AM.”_

_“… Sure, don’t tell me anything new. What’s he like? As handsome as the photos? Do you ever talk?”_

_I peered over my shoulder, but the entrance hall remained deserted. The ventilator above my head was slicing the moist, boiling air in a swishing cadence, but the sweat on my bare arms felt like hot, smeary raindrops. The tiles of the floor formed a black, white and dark crimson pattern; I traced it with my flip-flop._

_“Rose?”_

_I pressed the smudgy receiver against my ear. “Fuck, what do you want me to say? He’s so, so, gorgeous, and... he seems really nice, but we haven’t talked much yet. He’s very much into their music most of the time. Properly absorbed. I think he’s just generally pretty quiet.”_

_“Maybe he’s shy.”_

_“Oh, please, Lin. He’s just not interested in me.”_

“Rose, darling?”

David’s face was so close to mine I could have counted his lashes.

Apparently my body still wasn’t convinced that my rock star crush was in fact rather interested in me, let alone that he was really present in his physical form and not an apparition, stepped out of idle pipe dreams; I had to touch him, touch him, touch him, constantly. Maybe that way I would manage to convince myself eventually.


	16. Chapter 16

So, when he said in his low voice “You have something on your cheek” and kissed it away, my hands, my silly hands, were on his body again immediately, feeling around, slipping between his legs -squeezing him through his jeans. David made a “hmmm” sound, but then he disengaged himself with palpable reluctance and said he’d have to take a quick shower because he felt “sweaty and sticky from the saltwater”, and I did not bother to hide my annoyance. “Well, guess who else is feeling sticky? I didn’t want to go hiking but I did want to take a nice long shower too and now I can’t, apparently!”

He gave me a look that was downright obscene. I gaped like a monkey because I had never seen that on his face. Bedroom eyes suited him. “I wanted to take a nice long shower with you” he purred in a low voice. “Disappointments all around, I suppose.”

“Fuck off, Gilmour.”

He chuckled.

“No, seriously. Take your bloody shower and then get your pretty arse back in this bed with me.” I tapped an invisible watch on my wrist. “It’s getting late. Bedtime.”

“Bath time comes first” he said, rummaging around in his suitcase and pulling out a pair of black boxer shorts. “You please don’t get up and wander around again, alright?” He grabbed a towel and disappeared into the bathroom. Half a minute later, water began to rush with the splattering sound of a miniature rainforest downpour.

I made myself as comfortable as possible with my aching ankle in a splint, stretching out in an attempt to cover the entirety of the lovely double bed. The sky outside the windows had turned an inky shade of dark blue and the hotel had quieted down. I sighed. I was so in love.

The water stopped and two minutes later, David emerged from the bathroom in boxers and a towel draped around his shoulders, smelling fresh and clean and dripping on the parqueted floor. I commented on this. “You’re making the floor wet.” My eyes wouldn’t leave those V-shaped lines below his navel tapering down under the waistband. God, he was so hot. How should I get used to this?

“Have you taken your painkillers and the sleeping pills already?”

“I need some water for that and someone told me explicitly not to get up and wander around.”

“Hm” he conceded, carelessly drying his hair a bit with the towel and pulling a simple white t-shirt over his head.

“Did you have a nice shower, Doctor?”

“Thank you, it was just a little hurried. I wanted to get back to my winsome patient as quickly as possible.”

He took a glass from the nightstand and disappeared into the bathroom again to fill it. I pulled a face when I saw the two bonbon-sized pills in his hand. “I’m not sure I need those.”

David had a very eloquent way of raising his left eyebrow without saying a word, and he did that now. I grimaced at him, stuck them both between my teeth and made a point of downing the entire glass of water in three gulps. He smiled, obviously satisfied and smelling of soap and deodorant when he bent over me to kiss my forehead. Then his lips drifted to my mouth, and we both closed our eyes.

“You smell like an expensive deodorant advertisement” I mumbled. He made a strangled little sound because I was licking my way up his neck along one long, prominent tendon. His large hands caressed my upper thighs, a sweet torture, which got worse when he pushed me back on the bed only to let go and say, “We should sleep, Rose.”

I whined in protest. “Just sleep?

“I’m sorry, I don’t particularly like the idea of having to be boring, but you’re injured and I don’t want to hurt you and you’ve just taken a sleeping pill. Aren’t you feeling drowsy?”

“No, I’m feeling needy. What did you take me to your hotel room for, if I may ask? What’s with that famed rock star debauchery?”

He grinned in a very cute way. “I want you too, but you have to admit it’s not like we didn’t already -“

I bit his soft earlobe in response and he flinched. “Aren’t you feeling exhausted at all?”

“No! Yes. A little drowsy.” I sighed. “Alright. If you absolutely want to be boring and sensible.”

David took this reproach in his stride, kissing me passionately as if to make up for his sensibleness and even sliding his warm hand under my t-shirt for a few seconds, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. “I promise to make it up to you soon… Do you need anything else?” he asked. “Can I bring you anything?”

“No thanks, dear.” I smiled at his attentive face. “Thank you for being so kind and considerate, but for now, as I said, just your pretty arse in this bed, please.”

He climbed into bed and pulled me against his body. “I wonder…” he said, and yawned.

“Hmm? What?”

“What I could make you do by telling you that you really shouldn’t.”

“And I still thought you were a gentleman” I muttered, trying my best to control the butterflies in my stomach. David’s body felt so good against mine, and I felt him breathe calmly against my neck. “But you’re a naughty boy.”

He kissed me. “Yes. Goodnight, darling. Sleep well. Wake me if anything’s wrong, yeah?”

I stroked his hip under the blanket and then his face, as gently as I could. “Night, night, darling.”

I watched David close his eyes and fall asleep ten minutes later. He was breathing very quietly and his face looked serene and beautiful like that of a slightly scruffy angel, with his stubble and the unruly but silky hair, still damp from his shower. I put my hand above his heart and felt it thudding steadily against my palm. The sound and feel of it should help me go to sleep in spite of the tingling, giddy excitement charging through my brain because how was all this real?

The moon shone through the curtains. Magnolia blossoms rustled in the night breeze outside the window. The air was sweet and heavy. Somehow, I sank into a light sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

I woke up and was hit by that feeling that starts out as annoyance – it was the middle of the night! – but turns into relief as soon as you realise you don’t have to be up yet. But my mouth was dry like a piece of old parchment from the British Museum. Water? Bathroom. I had to get out of bed, and I had to be quiet because now I remembered I wasn’t alone tonight.

The man next to me was stretched out on his back, head bent to the side and chest heaving softly with quiet breaths. One arm across his stomach and the duvet only covering his long legs. I’d have to remember to scold him because he wasn’t holding me in his arms anymore. Although the summer night was sticky and the previous day’s heat lingered languidly into the early morning hours of the new one. I rubbed at my eyes, hot and gluey with sleep. David’s t-shirt had rid ridden up a bit and I had to run my fingers over the small strip of smooth skin between the white fabric and the waistband of his boxer shorts. He made a little sound and the hand on his stomach twitched, but he slept on peacefully. I smiled into the darkness, bent down to kiss him very softly on his stubbly cheek and slid out of bed. The nerves in my legs sent a newsflash of protest to my brain, and I clenched my teeth in grim determination because I was afraid David would wake if I resorted to pained sounds. Shut it, ankle, we’re grown up, I informed it. We’re going to walk to the bathroom and drink something, simple as that.

I limped across the room without bothering to turn on the light because the moon, nearly a full round disc, threw a rectangle of watery silver on the floor and the night was dark blue rather than black here. I made it to the sink, tried to rest my weight on both legs and slumped against the wall with a moan. It hurt. It was all bonkers. I was stupid.

The water came rushing from the tap as loudly as a waterfall, or so it seemed. A sound that drowned out everything else, which explained why I jumped when I turned around and saw David standing behind me, looking sleepy and concerned. “Rosalie?” he asked, raising his hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Gosh, you gave me a fright.” I turned off the tap and pulled a face as the pain in my foot flared up again.

David rubbed his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry for looking so frightening. Are you alright? Do you want me to get you anything?”

I hobbled over to him and leaned into his warm, dependably solid body, letting myself be held by him again. He kissed the top of my head and I felt safe. “No, thank you, I’ve drunk something and I don’t need anything else right now.” The t-shirt covered him completely now, so I slipped my hand beneath it to feel his skin under my fingertips. His stomach muscles tensed up ever so slightly only to relax again. “So _strong_ … very frightening indeed.”

“Fine, that means we can go back to bed” David yawned. He’d obviously only heard my first remark. True to form, he didn’t fuss; I was simply picked up, cradled against his broad chest and he crossed the room with two long steps and gently lowered me down on the bed. “Thanks, darling…. Although I have a feeling you’d have thrown me down if it weren’t for my horrible injury” I mumbled dozily. I felt his soft lips on my temple.

“Plenty of time to do that later” he muttered with a smile audible in his rich timbre, and I also smiled because his words sounded just like “I want to stay with you. I’m not going away anytime soon”.

Snatches of a melody came drifting through the night. I felt David stir. He’d been about to lie down beside me, but now we could also hear a voice, distant and muted beyond recognition yet too reedy to ignore.

“Who do you reckon –“ I began.

“Roger” said David. The strumming ceased for a second as though Roger had heard him, then swelled up again into a soft, clinking tune.

“He’s just mumbling along, I think” I said. “Maybe testing new lyrics.”

“Maybe he can’t sleep either.”

“Or maybe he’s just an inconsiderate prick.” I yawned, blindly reaching for David to snuggle up to him, but my hand grasped nothing but air. I opened my eyes. “What are you doing?”

David clambered back onto the mattress, the acoustic guitar from the beach in his arms the way others might carry a beloved cat or a dog with an unusually long neck.

“Baby. Is this a _if Roger can play after midnight, I’m allowed too_ thing?”

David plucked the A string so softly it sounded like dragonfly had landed there. “Roger’s put the beginning of a tune in my head that I might be able to work out…. Just… noodling a bit, you know…”

“So it is, you just made it sound more artsy.”

He strummed a shimmering chord, and then another. “Possibly.” The intense frown began to crease his brow even while he flashed me a smile, and he kept playing for several minutes. He spun a melody out of thin air and a handful of notes.

When Roger fell silent downstairs, David’s left eyebrow registered it, but his fingers went on flitting and plucking as he hummed along quietly – mellow vowels, almost-words. He was like a sculptor feeling for the shape of a figure encased in a block of stone.

“So, no one’s ever heard this song before?” I asked, playing with a strand of his hair when he set the instrument down.

“It’s not a proper song yet, but yes, you’re in fact the first one to hear me noodling around it.” David’s voice went up at the end of the sentence the way I’d come to expect it when he was calmly excited or content with something. He was looking at the guitar, slowly interlacing his fingers, still hearing the unfamiliar music in his head and trying to find out where it was leading him after the next chord.

“It was beautiful. Thank you very much, then” I muttered. It was an honour, but I’d have felt silly saying it out loud.

David yawned again and I opened my arms. “Come here…”

“I am here, darling.”

“Come closer, I want to kiss you goodnight again.”

He lay back down next to me, pulling me towards him and we kissed. He let me rest my head above his heart and caressed my cheek with his forefinger.

“Do you absolutely have to wear a t-shirt to bed?” I mumbled.

“Suppose not” David said drowsily.

My fingers were on his stomach again, pulling at the hem. “Take it off… feels nicer…”

He groaned amiably, pushed himself up on his elbows and pulled the t-shirt over his head. “Better?”

“Hm hmm…” He crumpled it up into a ball and tossed it at me, then lay back down. “Goodnight, Rose.”

I pressed my face into his warm, naked chest. “Night, night, David.” His t-shirt I kept in my hands, like a teddy that smelled of him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. I do not own any of the members of Pink Floyd mentioned.


End file.
